


I’ll be waiting here (till the stars fall out)

by lokislawyer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Mentions of Character Death, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din centric, Human!Cobb, M/M, Reaper!Din, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokislawyer/pseuds/lokislawyer
Summary: It is said that it takes a special type of soul to make an agent of Death.An orphan soul.and Din Djarin was exactly the type of soul that fit the criteria.-AU in which Din becomes a reaper of souls and meets a certain someone along the way.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92





	I’ll be waiting here (till the stars fall out)

**Author's Note:**

> this little work is based on a dream i’ve had a long time ago and couldn’t stop thinking about.
> 
> TW// there are mentions of the characters death but it is brief and vague you’ve been warned
> 
> having said that, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

It is said that it takes a special type of soul to make an agent of Death.

An orphan soul.

A person whose life was devoid of long lasting connections.

Someone who lived life in crushing loneliness and left it the same way they arrived, alone with no attachments.

The sort of person that would cause the least complications when collecting souls.

Din Djarin was exactly the sort of person that fit the criteria.

Orphaned in early childhood, flitting from orphanage to foster home to orphanage again, and dying alone in a small apartment surrounded with nothing but the echo of the howling winter wind, with no one to miss him and no one to care.

Death laid their hand on the young man’s cheek and bent to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Life had not been kind to you, child.” Death had said to him, gazing upon his despondent brown eyes that had lost all their light, “Though you possessed kindness enough to flood entire cities.” They paused, placing their hand on Din’s shoulder and guiding him along on a walk through the eerily white plane. “I must confess, I am loathe to ask this of you after the all your suffering, but it must be done.”

They stopped at a sandy shore, Din had not the faintest idea of how they made it to a beach in a few minutes, nor how was there even a body of water to begin with. He supposed things were different in the afterlife.

The afterlife.

What a sobering thought.

Death explained what they needed him to do, how to become an agent of Death, the difference between types of orphan souls, and what his ‘future’ would look like, as much of a future as he can look forward to.

The deal was the following: considering Din’s earthly life was void of malevolence on his part, he would have a specific number of souls to collect before he was free to step through the pearly gates, while more malevolent souls, conversely, were to spend their eternity in Death’s service.

Din stared at the sparkling waves for a few moments in contemplation. He thought that for an angel infamous for being the cause of grief for millions upon millions of people, they were surprisingly compassionate. And he told them as such, and watched as Death threw their head back and laughed.

“My dear child, humans have a tendency to hate anything they can’t control.” They placed their slender hand on Din’s hair, “It is in their nature to look for something to blame for their woes. That something sometimes happens to be me, though I have as much choice in the matter as they do.”

And thus began Din Djarin’s journey as a reaper of souls. He went about it with a diligence that he treated every task in his previous life with.

He wandered the city he was assigned to, scythe firmly held in one hand, though he rarely used it. He preferred to be a guide for the lost, gently leading them to the next step of their soul’s existence.

Sometimes, he would simply roam the streets as unseen as he had felt while living and just watch _life_ happen all around him.

The first time someone saw him was when he was collecting the soul of an old man who died surrounded by family.

A boy stood alone in the corridor outside the room with brown hair and curious dark eyes had looked directly at him, making his grip on the old man’s hand falter.

The boy cocked his head to the side inquisitively and Din felt seen for the first time in his existence.

“Tell no soul what you saw, little bird.” Din said to him and he nodded slowly. Din turned to leave.

“Are you an angel?” The squeaked question stopped him in his tracks, and he turned back to look down at the boy.

“What do you think?”

“I think that you are.” The boy said with the unwavering conviction that only children tended to possess.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Din with mild fascination and the boy with calm assuredness, before Din had to leave.

Din left that big house with a lightness in his heart that he carried with him for years.

He had been seen by someone and it felt like a promise.

For some reason he did not yet fully understand, he decided to keep this little incident to himself. The prospect of telling Death about it caused him anxiety, so he refrained from doing it. He hoped he didn’t break any divine rule or something of the sort.

The next time he saw the boy, he wasn’t a boy anymore but a gangly teen with a mop of brown hair sticking out in odd directions. A young woman had choked on her food in a café and help was too late. The brown haired boy was alone in a nearby table, headphones on and blissfully unaware of the commotion until he saw the waiters rushing past him.

Din was calming the soul down when he caught sight of the boy looking around, as if looking for something, and immediately recognized him.

He slowly realized the boy couldn’t see him.

It was probably for the better, Din thought to himself as he guided the soul away from the scene. Seeing an agent of Death once, was one time too many.

Still, a small part of him wished to be seen again.

An idea occurred to him, and he acted on it against his better judgment: he walked towards the boy and placed his hand on his unruly hair, feeling the boy’s body tense under his touch and a slow smile pull at the corners of his mouth as his wide eyes flit about.

He pulled his hand back to his side and retreated, taking the soul with him and leaving.

The thought of him forming a friendship with a young human boy was a silly thought, and yet it kept him going and gave him something to look forward to in this morbid business.

Over the years, Din got to watch the boy grow into quite the young man in fleeting moments. He didn’t always see him while collecting, though. Most of the times they would cross paths on the streets, and Din would always try to give the human a sign he was there.

A tap to the shoulder, a hand on the hair.

And the human would pause whatever he was doing and look around with a soft surprised smile.

Din liked to think they understood each other perfectly through the limited and sparse interactions through the years.

The young man grew older, and Din found himself mesmerized by the way he carried himself, the way his dark eyes sparkled, the way his body would shake when he laughed, and the way he exuded _light._

Naturally, that was the moment Din decided to stop interacting with him. He felt too attached to the man and tried to avoid him as much as he could, to the point where he saw him only once every few years.

The absence was Din’s constant companion, but he was used to loneliness.

One day, Death told him that his contract was coming to an end. He had only one soul left to take.

Din didn’t know how to feel about that. He was so used to the routine, awful and draining as it was.

He accepted the paper that had the last name written from Death and opened it to read the name.

Cobb Vanth, male, thirty four years old, death by car accident.

Death told him it was their gift to him, for being a diligent servant. He didn’t understand what that meant but he thanked them all the same. They had been a pillar that anchored him all these years and he was going to miss talking to them.

Din made his way to the address written and waited. It was over in seconds.

When the soul stumbled out of the car, falling to the ground, he froze in place.

It was _him._

The man looked at the scene of the crash, breathing hard.

Din stepped forward, calling his name. Cobb pivoted around at the sound of his name and their eyes met for the first time in decades.

“Angel.” He breathed, looking up at Din wondrously.

“It’s been a while, little bird.” Smiled Din at him fondly, reaching a hand down to help him up, the other holding his scythe.

Cobb let himself be pulled up, dragging Din towards him into a tight hug, enveloping Din in his arms.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He whispered.

If it was possible for someone to die- again- from sheer happiness, Din would’ve died at that moment.

Suddenly, he understood what Death had meant. He looked up at the sprawling blue sky and sent a silent ‘thank you’ to them.

An eternity did not seem so bad, now that he had someone to share it with.


End file.
